A quirky story of wealth, greed, and revenge; a dish best served cold.

“Do you know how long you have?”

“They said a few months, perhaps a year.  They are puzzled but they are working on it.  In the mean time, I do what they say and hope for the best.”

“How will you do that if you are all alone on that island?”

“I don’t have to see my doctors again for eight weeks.  I already have a pre-purchased round trip first class ticket.  Two days from the island to civilization, add one day to travel back and one day to decompress from jet lag, and add one more for good measure. 

“I will return in fifty-two days and they will poke, prod, palpitate, stick, x-ray, and do other unimaginable violations of my body,” he said with a sad smile. 

“And nobody knows other than myself, Sharpel and your doctors,” she asked.

“I haven’t told my ex or the kids; Patrick has earned nothing in life.  Growing up, she indulged his every whim, want, wish, and demands.  I tell you Sherrie, there were times I wished this company would have gone belly up just to cut him off and watch him try to survive.”

Sherrie chuckled at the thought.  You do know that when he was a senior in high school, he hit on me,” she asked with a sly smile.  He looked at her and just shook his head.  “On his eighteenth, he proposed to me.”

“I had no idea,” he replied with a dry and raspy voice.  “Did you ever, I mean did you,” his voice faded.

“No I, we, never did anything.  I convinced him I was not interested in boys or men,” she replied.  What about your daughter; Lana?  The last time I saw her she was a bratty fifteen years old.”

Big D snorted.  “Now she is a bratty twenty year old.  We haven’t spoken since the divorce.”  He got up from his chair and walked to a sideboard.  He pulled the top of a cut crystal decanter and poured some brandy in a snifter.  He held it up to her and she shook her head no.  He filled his glass and returned to his seat and his cigar.  He sat down and signed.  “Oh, to be able to go back and start all over.”

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